


if walls could talk

by orphan_account



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, idk.. enstars rich people, masquerade balls, no one is an idol or attends yumenosaki lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He does not know what it is, but every instinct in his body is screaming at him that this red-haired boy is not to be trusted. He worries that he is being too paranoid; they had only met mere minutes ago. But was that really the case? There is a memorable aspect to the lilt in the boy’s voice. Yuzuru can’t quite put his finger on what it is. It bothers him, no—frustrateshim as a speck of dust on an otherwise clean shelf would.Yuzuru has a strange encounter.
Relationships: Fushimi Yuzuru/Saegusa Ibara
Comments: 13
Kudos: 29





	if walls could talk

Taking a sip from his glass, Yuzuru leans back slightly against the wall. To the majority of onlookers, his composure would still seem perfect—as expected of the lead servant to the Himemiya heir, of course. 

But to the most discerning eye, the subtleties in his posture would bely the relaxed air around him. While he could not completely ignore the pompous attitudes of all the adults that filled the room, Yuzuru figures that at least on a surface-level, appearances and status were not meant to be the focus of tonight. 

The Tenshouins hosted rather interesting events: concerts, charity galas, horseback racing tournaments, and more. Those whose pockets were lined with money always found ways to flaunt it. He had assumed he had seen it all, yet this was the first time Yuzuru had accompanied his young master to a masquerade ball. 

Even though the invite appeared innocent enough, he knew better. Yuzuru had overheard some senior servants speak of new agreements to hopefully be made soon while ironing their suits; after a bit more eavesdropping, he reached the conclusion of it being a merger of two companies. An announcement made halfway through the night proved this theory true. 

Everything in this world revolved around business and connections. A bitter truth that he knew the young master would have to come to proper terms with eventually. 

Nonetheless, the atmosphere of the room feels slightly shifted from usual functions. Perhaps it is due to the masks everyone wears. His own black one rests heavy on his face, but it’s fairly basic in comparison to the ones sported by the individuals scattered across the room: theirs being adjourned with feathers and glitters and accents. 

He was more than aware of the name and background of nearly every individual he and his young master had interacted with in the past hour. Still, resting against the wall, he finds that the theme of supposed anonymity might have allowed him and others to be more at ease than they were at previous formal events. 

He keeps one eye on his young master—chatting away happily with Tenshouin-sama near the refreshments table—and another out for signs of any off behavior, but also allows himself to get lost in the instrumental piece the band is playing in the back. It’s a subdued tune. Ironically, the simplicity of it contrasts with the grandness of the hall, decked to the brim with gold banners and ornaments. 

Yuzuru wishes the young master were more enthused with this than the idol pop music he typically has blasting in the house when his parents are not present, because it soothes even his vigilant self. He smiles to himself, thinking about how nice it would be to clean with it playing in the background. 

Despite being lost in his thoughts, the trance he’s wound up in is not strong enough for him to not notice someone approaching him (he had been trained to detect the smallest presences). Immediately, Yuzuru corrects his posture. 

His mind desperately tries to put a match to the boy before an exchange is made. Red hair makes him think of the Tsukasa heir, but once he meets the aquamarine eyes that seem to leer at him beneath the white and silver mask, he rules that possibility out. There’s a familiar glint to them. He feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. 

Yuzuru is not entirely sure what business someone would have with _him_. He guesses it’s merely some company official’s bored son, looking to engage in a conversation with a person his own age. From his experience in accompanying the young master while greeting adults, they could be incredibly stuffy and condescending. If he hadn’t known how important it was to appeal to them, he would completely avoid them in the first place. 

Yet, the smirk that’s sent his direction sets him on edge; it tells him that this isn’t just another weary rich boy seeking respite from overbearing adults. 

The boy moves like he has an intended purpose, like he already knows who Yuzuru is. Confident and sure in his steps—like a soldier marching to his post for duty. 

Walking up to him, the red-head tilts his head towards the center of the venue, filled with partygoers, and demands more than asks, “Not one for socializing?” 

Yuzuru gives him a neutral grin. “Most of the mingling that happens here is centered on creating business connections rather than personal ones. I am fine simply observing.” 

He receives a curt laugh. “Is there something wrong with that? This is a business party after all.” 

“No, absolutely not. However, I am nothing but a humble servant. There’s no merit in it for me,” Setting his mostly empty glass down on the nearby table, he bows in greeting, “but it’s still a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m Fushimi Yuzuru, serving the Himemiya family.” 

For a second, he thinks he sees the smile below the other’s mask tighten into a grimace. But when he blinks, it’s back to normal. 

“Likewise, I suppose. Please raise your head though—it’s a bit embarrassing to receive that sort of treatment.”

He straightens up. “Forgive me. Embarrassing?” 

The boy gives a small hum. “To be honest, I only recently came into wealth. Before that, my living situation was… less than favorable, let’s just say. So being treated like I’m some pampered prince doesn’t quite sit right with me.”

Yuzuru pauses, wondering if it would be appropriate to ask for a name. He hadn’t heard of any new-wealth, though he does his best to stay up-to-date with the Himemiya’s immediate circle, knowing that it would become the young master’s partners one day. Hesitance settles in his stomach as he considers his options: what if the other hailed from a family more in power than the Himemiyas, and found his behavior rude, how would that reflect on the young master? 

Dismissing these thoughts, he takes an impartial route, “I see. I will try to refrain from making you uncomfortable. Hopefully it hasn’t been too difficult of an adjustment.” 

Yuzuru doesn’t like the uneasiness that’s accumulating from being around this boy. He hopes to make his way back towards his young master through attempting to lead the conversation to a stopping point. But the other follows his gaze towards where he and Tenshouin-sama are, and the predatory grin that crawls onto the boy’s face spurs his protectiveness. He moves off the wall, blocking them from view with his side. 

In a matter of minutes, the previous comfort he basked in has vanished. He does not know what it is, but every instinct in his body is screaming at him that this red-haired boy is not to be trusted. He worries that he is being too paranoid; they had only met mere minutes ago. But was that really the case? 

There is a memorable aspect to the lilt in the boy’s voice. Yuzuru can’t quite put his finger on what it is. It bothers him, no— _frustrates_ him as a speck of dust on an otherwise clean shelf would. 

“It’s been manageable. The switch in lifestyles was somewhat abrupt, and there’s a lot I still don’t know. I spend most of my free time glued to a calculator and notes.” 

“Sounds dreary.” 

The red-head nods once in affirmation while staring dead at him. His smirk hasn’t left his mouth. The boy brings his hand up and starts to fan himself, letting out a cry of complaint that sounds much too exasperated to be real. “This room feels way too warm and stuffy. Would you be interested in continuing this conversation outside? A breath of fresh air might be nice.” 

Yuzuru hesitates, glancing over his shoulder at his giggling young master and Tenshouin-sama, now joined by the younger Tomoe brother. 

“I am certain that child will last a couple minutes without you watching over him.” He turns around to the sight of the other boy’s back, who is already walking towards a balcony a little ways off the main entrance to the venue. Though he does not want to leave the young master, he also doesn’t want his behavior to reflect poorly on him. And in all honesty, he is a bit intrigued. Yuzuru follows the boy. 

Once outside, he marvels in how the noise from the party seems to have dimmed: loud conversations turning into background noise. It’s slightly chilly—a typical October night. 

The boy is silent on the far end of the balcony. He moves towards him, maintaining a good length, and inspects the neatly kept garden underneath them. 

“I do have to admit something,” the boy begins, “I was already aware of your identity before greeting you. In fact, I recognized you from across the room and thought it would be more interesting to talk to you than these adults.” 

At those words, his heart rate picks up. Not from fear exactly. It is more of a sick thrill, countless possibilities and scenarios coursing through his mind behind this individual’s identity. Maybe it’s a spy, someone from Yuzuru’s past, sent to infiltrate the Himemiya ranks through his servant. Yuzuru’s circle does not extend beyond the young master’s, so he racks his brain. 

“Have we met before? Pardon my ignorance.” 

“Hm, well. It wouldn’t be fun to give you an answer to that right off the bat, now would it?” 

In that moment, Yuzuru comes to the realization that he is being played with. He lets his own face stretch into a guarded leer—what sort of game only included one player? “I could just reach and take your mask off.” 

The red-haired boy chuckles. “You could, but you won’t.” 

“Since you seem to know so much about me: why is that?” 

“Because if you do, I’ll bite my tongue and cry out that you’re assaulting me. And I think we both know who’s story would be more readily believed.” There’s a crazed look in the boy’s eyes that tells Yuzuru he’s serious. And also correct—despite his status as lead servant, there was no saving him from a statement made by a company heir. 

This cruel manner of thinking definitely would not belong to someone born straight into luxury. “If you’re willing to go to such lengths, you certainly aren’t a pampered prince then, as you said.” 

“And you aren’t fit to be a collared housepet, but you sure are keen on acting like one.” The words are almost spat out, like poison that was accidentally digested. The boy takes one step, and then another, in movements that resemble a snake coiling towards its prey, inching closer and closer to where Yuzuru is overlooking the garden. 

Who does he know that’s so visceral towards him? He grabs the railing of the balcony in an attempt to curb his desire to pluck the garment off the other boy, his hands shaking and knuckles turning pale as his heart thuds. “That’s a bold statement.” 

“It’s a well-founded one.” The boy is within an arm's length now. He can see the tiniest details on his mask, silver threads of glitter swirled this way and that, the whiteness of the material commanding all his attention in contrast to the dark night with not a single star visible. 

Suddenly, the boy lunges and he finds himself turned around with his back to the garden, his wrists caught in a vice grip. His heartbeat now echoes loudly in his ears, the music from the party deafened completely. Yuzuru knows he could easily shake out of the hold, could have the red-hair on the ground in seconds. But for some reason, he stays perfectly still, even as the grip tightens to the point of pain. 

He takes a breath, and points out, “I am not sure being caught in this sort of position with a mere servant would reflect well on either of us.” 

That looks to have been the wrong thing to say. Regardless of half of his face being obstructed, he can tell the other boy’s expression has shifted from sick enjoyment to one of ire. He senses the hand on his left wrist loosening, but before he knows it, the boy grabs his tie (undoubtedly scrunched up now, he’ll have to straighten it out later) and tugs his head forward. 

Yuzuru can smell the cologne on the boy: a faint rosy scent with a hint of something else he can’t name. The red-head brings his lips near his ear, so close that he swears he can feel the steady exhale of his breath against it. 

“You seem to be wearing more than one mask, _Instructor Commander._ ” 

His eyes widen. And all at once, everything becomes clear but not at the same time. Memories surge through him: a scrawny subordinate with attitude problems, always looking for an opportunity to get the better of him. Conversations in the dead of the night when they both lay in their barracks wondering if they’d survive till the next. Being convinced to slack off on drills, running as far from the camp as they could, over hills and through meadows together, wrestling matches, scraped knees, bloody noses, the mutual unvoiced knowledge that any sense of camaraderie would end as soon as Yuzuru’s parents thought his training period was over. 

One answer has been provided to him, yet a million more questions rush to him: Why? How? When? 

Ibara releases his tie, and Yuzuru can’t even find it in himself to worry about the untidy state of it. His former subordinate throws his head back and lets out a short laugh, a crude one, then stalks off towards the bright room—disappearing in the ranks of black suits and red evening gowns and champagne glasses. 

For a while, Yuzuru remains frozen out there in the cold of the night, his heart and mind racing. Then, he smoothes out his tie and straightens his clothes and mask, and heads back to the venue.

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea what this is tbh but *dumps it and leaves* 
> 
> thanks to anyone who read + i hope u enjoyed it! feedback whether it's negative or positive is highly appreciated


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